Monday Musings - 35

From where I sit, I can watch the sun fall upon a patch of green, in a jungle of concrete. Cars swirl too and fro, on the NH8. The wind carries brown dust, and occasionally a woman walks by. It is not a town for women, Gurgaon. At 4 pm, if you decide to walk, while the sun is out, a car will stop beside you. A man will roll down his window, and have something to say. If you look away, he drives away.

And, sometimes, he won't as much as stop to get your attention. Just a whistle, or a word, or a glare will do. This is by day. Come night, a deathly fear creeps into your heart. Sunset brings with it all kinds of stories, you want to keep away from.

Some days, even sunrise won't bring respite. You clamber up a bus, only to have comments passed around by men seated around the bus. It doesn't matter that there are other women in the bus. It doesn't matter that the bus conductor hears, and won't say a word. And, it doesn't matter that there are tears in your eyes.

You just lace your heart with ice, and take on the day. For more often than not, it's a beautiful day. There are exhibitions where pretty things in Jaipur Blue, and long earrings come together. There are food stalls where kebabs are burnt brown. There are theaters, where you watch well, theatre. A play is entitled, "Nothing will Happen Between Us." In it, a young man says, "I think love is overrated. I have decided to become a conscientious objector."

Then, there is music, and there is a hint of rain in an otherwise clear sky. And, there is a throng of women at Central Market, Lajpat Nagar. Cycle rickshaws gather, and wonder which newcomer to con. Chai is now Rs. 8/-. Gardens are now galore, left by default, left by History.

And, there is, you learn, hope. Hope you anchor by faith well-vested, not misinformed. Ah, I am a mind in many places this Monday.

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